Down In The Dark And Deep
by happyday girl
Summary: It's an ordinary rainy day for the Musketeers until a convicted killer- with a connection to Aramis- is reported to have escaped from prison. Tasked with finding him, they managed to trap him in the catacombs beneath the city streets. As they venture down to find him things go from bad to worse... will the hunters become the hunted? Lots of whump and caring!brothers. R&R?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This story was sparked by a YouTube video of a man who got lost in the Paris Catacombs; my mind just went haywire and this idea was born. I'm taking a bit of artistic license with time periods and things, but I hope you won't mind! Lots of whump/darkness/claustrophobia and also lots of brotherly moments between the guys in this fic! I hope you like this first chapter!**

 **Onwards!**

* * *

Rain tinkered onto the roof of the stables in the garrison training ground, sending rivets of water down onto the ground below. Grey clouds bobbed and misted overhead, and there was a peculiar silence as the rainstorm continued it's barrage of the City. Aramis sighed, taking another swallow of his warmed ale; it was the only upside of rainy days like this.

D'Artagnan was sat next to him; the wet air made his hair flatten to his head, and he looked as miserable as the other Musketeer felt. The younger man threw a stone onto the sandy training area, watching as it skittered over puddles and came to rest in a pile of sodden hay. 'So much for a training session,' he muttered, pulling his coat around him.

'There'll be other times, lad.' Aramis smiled across at him. 'At least no one will get an injury slipping up- you'll be really complaining then!'

'S'pose….' D'Artagnan agreed, nodding at his friend with a smile. 'I'm just bored.'

Aramis nodded at that: since he and d'Artagnan had been booked in for a morning training session, Treville had given Athos and Porthos work instead of them, and now they were at quite a loss for activities.

'Well, perhaps the others will be back soon,' he reasoned, stretching his own unused muscles, 'and then we can take the horses for a run...' He stopped, a grin forming on his face as he spied two familiar figures trudging through the gates. 'Speak of the devil!' He chuckled, raising a hand in welcome as Porthos and Athos slowly made their way towards them.

'Had enough of the rain, too?' D'Artagnan asked, sniffing as they came level. Athos looked sideways to Aramis; his eyes were dark, and at once Aramis knew they hadn't returned to seek shelter from the rain. 'What's happened?' He asked as the smile slipped off his face, voice low as he looked from Porthos to Athos. 'What's wrong?'

'Duval.' Porthos growled, eyes narrowed.

D'Artagnan looked from one Musketeer to the other; he had been with them for the past few weeks, and as much as he enjoyed their tutelage and company, he was still often left in the dark when they had conversations about things he knew nothing of. He knew the name must herald something bad, as Aramis clenched his fist around his ale tankard and had to take a steadying breath before asking 'what of him?'.

'He's out, Aramis.' Athos said, his voice steady and measured.

'Out?' Aramis' voice hinted at indignation. 'What do you mean, out?' He looked across at his two friends, and d'Artagnan could see that even in the grey light of the day that his face was ashen white. 'They can't have let him out?'

'No, Mis, they didn't.' Athos replied, looking across to Porthos. He licked his lips, unsure of whether to continue, but reasoning his friend had to know. 'He escaped.'

Aramis's eyes went wider than d'Artagnan thought eyes could go. 'What?' He asked, the word urgent. 'What did you say?'

'He killed two guards and the Musketeer assigned to guard him,' Porthos ploughed in, figuring if he had to know he better know the truth. The Musketeer had been a relatively new addition to the team, but he knew his loss would be felt within the garrison.. 'Then he hid in the bushes until nightfall and made his escape.'

'I can't believe this...' Aramis put his hands in his head, shaking it a little. D'Artagnan had never seen the normally jovial Musketeer lose control like this- he looked across to Athos, who gave him a small reassuring nod to let him know that the other man would be ok. He watched as Armais breathed in deeply, straightened up and looked back at the two men with a controlled measure of calm. 'When?'

'Last night.' Athos replied, leaning against the wooden struts of the training area. 'The alarm was raised about two hours ago. We had a look for him but he's vanished.'

'Right,' Aramis nodded, breathing in deeply. 'Alright- so, what are our orders?'

'Treville doesn't want you anywhere near the case,' Athos replied, already preparing for the onslaught, 'given your...history, as it were.'

'He seriously thinks he can just-'

'Yes, I do.' Treville's voice cut in from behind them. Aramis stood and turned, eyes dark as he opened his mouth. Treville put a hand up to stop him, 'I understand you want to help- but after everyone that happened before I deemed it unwise to put you in that situation again.'

'What happened last time won't happen again!' Aramis replied, 'I promise.'

'I can't take that chance,' Treville shook his head, eyes apologetic but firm. 'I can't lose two Musketeers to this man.'

'Aramis has as much as a right to help find him as any other man,' Athos put forward, giving his captain a minute shrug, 'at least he'll be with friends this time.'

'We'll make sure nothing happens,' Porthos agreed with a nod- Armais looked up at his two friends, a grateful smile now on his face.

Treville sighed, but seemed to relent. 'I want an end to this- find him. Dead or alive.' He added before giving his men a hard nod and turning away. 'Take the boy with you.'

D'Artagnan withheld a nervous gulp as three pairs of eyes suddenly pounced on him. Athos gave a nod before turning away to sort out his weapons. 'We leave in ten minutes- be ready.' He ordered, before walking away to speak with Treville.

D'Artagnan stood as the two remaining musketeers exchanged looks. 'What's so bad about this guy?' He asked, a frown creasing his eyes.

'He's a vicious maniac with no place in civilised society.' Aramis answered shortly, eyes dark-d'Artagnan knew this was a good an answer he was going to get at the moment, so he let it drop a little. 'We better get going.' He finished; Athos made his way back to them, face stoic and ready. He looked at Aramis, eyes roving and seeming to pierce his soul. 'I'll be fine,' Aramis told him, to which Athos nodded. 'I know you will be.' He replied, and as a foursome they walked back out the garrison to the city. 'We'll make sure of it.'

* * *

The rain had begun to die away as they made their way through the sodden streets of Paris. Everywhere they looked people were hurrying to and fro before making their ways home- word got around fast about the flurry of activity from the Musketeers. Many had been drafted in from other missions and tasks, and their presence was like a wave as they searched Paris for Duval. They had forgone their horses for their feet- many of the other musketeers were on horseback, but they wanted to be quick on their feet if they did spot him.

'What if he's already made his escape?' D'Artagnan asked, looking across to the other three men waking in silence beside him. 'If I was him I would try and get as far away from here as I could.'

'He could never get far enough.' Aramis growled.

'We'll find him.' Athos added, voice hard. 'No matter what it takes.'

D'Artagnan opened his mouth to ask what had this man done to make them all hate him so- as he did so there was a high scream from a street to their left.

'Lord, no...' Aramis whispered, before the four of them took off running in the direction of the panicked cries and shouts of the Parisians. 'Out the way!' Porthos yelled as they fought their way through the sudden clamour.

A woman had her head in her face, tears leaking from her eyes as she looked upon the scene- a man was lying on the ground, blood obscuring his face. His neck had been viciously cut; blood ran in rivets as it joined the water soaking the streets.

'Oh, God...' Athos growled, crinkling his eyes a little. He noticed a young girl at his side, barely coming up to his knee; he put his gloved hand over her eyes and pushed her into the direction of her parents, who picked her up and hurried her away.

'Where did he go?!' Aramis was asking some of the witnesses, 'where?!'

'I saw a man in a black cloak run that way-' a younger man called over, pointing to a long alleyway to their right.

'Quick- we may still catch him!' Athos shouted, and the four of them took off running in the direction the man had pointed in. Aramis was off the mark first; he ran faster than the others, and soon he was alone as he ran through the deserted backstreets- he skidded to a halt as he turned a corner and ran head first into a cloaked figure who had been hiding around it. They both sprawled on the ground- Aramis groaned in pain before a well aimed kick found it's mark in his stomach. Struggling up he caught sight of the man he had knocked over as his hood was pulled down. 'Duval!' He yelled, launching himself at the other man with a snarl.

The man was older, but wiry- he pulled himself away with a broad laugh; the sound made Aramis feel sick.

'Aramis, is that you?' He asked, his voice laced with poison. 'Dear god, it is!' They both stood up, breathing heavily.

'Duval, you come quietly or you come dead, whichever you prefer.' Aramis growled, hand already at his sword.

'I think not,' Duval answered with a sickening smile. He stepped closer, and was just opening his mouth to speak again when they both heard the shouts of the other three.

They locked eyes for few seconds, during which Duval gave another horrible smile and Aramis glared across at him. 'I'm not going back.' He promised, before launching himself at the Musketeer- Aramis instinctively covered his face and let himself drop to the ground- he had enough dealings with this man to know that he had a knife in his hands. The punch to his face caught him off guard and he felt his nose start to bleed beneath his hands as he clutched at it.

Suddenly the pressure of the other man on him lessened, and he turned his head to see him running down the street again, closely followed by Porthos and d'Artagnan.

'Aramis?' Athos' voice sounded far away. 'Aramis, you need to get up!' He groaned as he felt two hands clasp themselves in his coat and heave him upright. 'Come on, that's it...' He heard Athos mutter, before he swore as he caught sight of his face. 'Are you hurt anywhere else?'

'He got away again..'

'Aramis! Are you hurt anywhere else?' Athos took a look at him at arm's length, before running his hands around his stomach. Relief tinged when his hands came back dry and not red with blood.

He gave a long sigh as he collected his thoughts- Aramis ripped himself from his grasp and wiped the blood from his nose. 'We've got to get after him!' He muttered, before they both turned as they heard lone footsteps coming up behind them.

'Found...him...' D'Artagnan panted- he had evidently just sprinted back.

'Porthos?' Aramis asked, panic rising as he saw he was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't lose Porthos too.

'Guarding...the door..' D'Artagnan replied, before giving a cough. 'He's making sure he won't get out.'

'Get out?' Athos was confused. 'Get out of where?'

'The catacombs.' The younger man explained, before waving his arm to get the others to follow. 'Porthos closed the door on him.' Athos and Aramis exchanged a look before following- they quickly made their way through a leafy part of the city before drawing level with a large church. They ran the length of a large, crumbling grey wall, at the end of which stood a large black door. Porthos stood in front of it, a hard look on his face.

'He ain't going anywhere fast.' He stated as they stopped in front of him. 'I ordered the keeper to lock up the other entrances, leaving just this one.' He then produced a key and twirled it in his hands, 'only thing is, I've just locked this one.' He tucked it in his pocket. 'Oops.'

'You can open it back up,' Aramis muttered, voice dark as he wiped the last of the blood from his nose. 'I'm going in.'

'Like hell you are!' Athos growled, shaking his head. 'He's not getting out- we just wait and go in to retrieve him in a week or so.'

'I want him alive.'

'Treville said-'

'I don't give a damn what Treville said-' Aramis gave him a long hard stare. '-death is too good for this man.'

Despite himself, Athos wavered under the hard expression of his closest friend. 'I...this is madness...' He started.

'Sometimes you have to fight madness with madness, my friend.'

Athos looked to the others, but he knew they were firmly on the side of the man in front of him. 'I give the commands,' he said, finally giving in. 'If I say stop you stop, alright?'

'You have my word.'

'Good.' He took a deep breath and nodded for Porthos to unlock the door. 'Treville said get him dead or alive- at this moment I'm inclined more towards the dead part,' he muttered as the door opened. A warm, fousty smell caught their noses- d'Artagnan crinkled his nose but said nothing.

'We keep as quiet as we can.' Athos muttered, looking back at the other three. 'Ready?'

'No,' Porthos snorted with a shrug, 'but let's go.'

Athos nodded and made his way through the door. 'Close it once we've lit the torches.' He ordered, and together they carefully picked their way into the corridor. He hoped this would be quick- he had heard stories of this place, and he only hoped most were untrue... Once the torches that were lined up against the wall were lit he nodded to d'Artagnan, who swung the door shut behind them all, enveloping them in total darkness apart from the orange glows of their torches.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, LOTS more to come!**

 **Please review!**

 **Next chapter up soon!**

 **X**


	2. Chapter 2

'I didn't think it'd be this dark.' Porthos muttered, licking suddenly dry lips and peering round. Apart from the circle of orange flickering light cast by their torches, the world beyond them was dark and pressing; the smell of old water, old rocks and old dust assaulted their noses as they took their first deep breaths.

'Did you expect light?' Athos replied, also looking around as he calculated their next steps.

'Well, no- but it's so...suffocating.'

'This place wasn't made for the living, my friend.' Aramis reminded him. D'Artagnan, who grew up far away from the bustling city, looked round at him with quizzical wide eyes. 'What's down here?' He asked.

'Bodies, d'Artagnan,' Aramis replied in a grim voice. 'Millions of them.' D'Artagnan gave him a horrified look, making the older man hold in a chuckle.

'Come on,' Athos muttered, brandishing his torch in front of him. The heat made his face warm, but he was grateful for it. 'Let's get going.'

The four of them started walking in silence, the only sounds being their light footfalls and the drip dripping of water droplets falling from the ceilings of the tunnels onto the damp floors below. As the tunnels delved deeper into the catacombs the four of them had to bend slightly, stooping down so their heads didn't hit the top of the tunnel.

Finally, d'Artagnan could not hold in his curiosity any longer. 'Why are there millions of bodies here?' He whispered at Aramis, who was the closest man to him.

'The cemeteries were getting, well... full. There was too many to bury and not enough plots in the graveyards. They tried mass graves, pits, everything.' The older man explained, making sure to keep his voice quiet. 'One night there was a huge flood,' he continued, sighing a little as he looked around. 'Bodies, bloated and decomposing and skeletal alike, came floating out through the hastily made graves and ended up beached outside people's homes.'

'Not a nice thing to wake up to.' Porthos added with a dark chuckle.

'Quite- in the end they went into these disused mines, dug around in them for a while, and they started piling the bodies in here.'

'Where?' D'Artagnan looked round, not finding any sign of bodies; he gave out an involuntary cry as he tripped over something on the floor and threw his hands out to the sides of the tunnel.

'You've put your hand on one.' Porthos muttered, bringing his torch closer so the younger man could see. D'Artagnan looked and gave a shudder, moving away from the wall- he had put his hands on a skull that, along with thousands of others, had been built into the walls of the tunnel.

'That's disgusting!' He whispered, wiping his hands on his trousers.

'Desperate times...' Aramis shrugged, before they continued on their way.

They walked for a few more minutes until Athos stopped, flinging his hand up so the others stopped. 'What?' Aramis asked, instantly alert.

'The tunnels fork here.' Athos replied. 'I don't know which one to take.'

'So, who brought the map?' Porthos joked sardonically.

'There's no map of this place,' Athos stated, as if the question had been serious. 'No one's been down here for years.'

'So which way do we go?' D'Artagnan asked, 'do we split up?'

Athos turned to him, giving him a look. 'I think not- the last thing we need is for two of us to get lost.'

'Uh, chaps-' Aramis called from the other side of the tunnel, peering into something dark on the floor. 'I don't think we need to worry about which tunnel to take.'

'Why?' Porthos asked as they walked over to him. 'Whats that?'

'That, my friend, is a ladder.' Aramis whispered, before he nodded to a large wooden disk that had been dislodged to the side of the entrance. 'The lid has been taken off.' He looked up to Athos, who regarded him with a concerned expression on his face. 'Duval must have taken it off as he went down there.'

'Aramis...'

'The longer we stand here speaking the more chance he has to get away!'

'Why would he go down there? He has tunnels to run through here-'

'He said to me that he wasn't going back to prison. He went down here to lose us and he hoped we wouldn't follow.' Aramis growled, eyes flashing even in the darkness. 'We have to go down there!'

Athos sighed, weighing up his options. If he didn't go down there, and he was in the tunnels ahead of them, he would be seriously angry at his friend...but Aramis seemed so sure.

'How long are these tunnels?' He asked, turning to Porthos.

'I heard they're about 200 miles long,' he replied in a dark voice. 'They go almost the length of Paris.'

Athos sighed again, knowing time was slipping away. 'We stay together. We go down, we have a look, and if we can't find him we come back up when I say so- alright?' He asked, looking at Aramis in particular. 'Is that fair to you?'

'I'm not a child, Athos.' Aramis replied, but he nodded as his friend gave him a hard look. 'Alright,' he muttered, handing him his torch. 'Hold this, I'll go down first.'

Athos nodded and took it, before stepping back as Aramis started to climb down the ladder.

'Here goes nothing.' He muttered, raising his eyebrows as his head disappeared below the surface and into the catacombs below.

* * *

'You know, I didn't think it could get any darker.' Porthos whispered, his voice echoing deeply in the tighter tunnels. 'Guess I was wrong.'

'We should keep quiet here-' Aramis muttered, looking around warily as he helped tend to the torches. 'If Duval is down here, he'd hear us now.' The others nodded, their breaths now coming out in sharper sets. D'Artagnan felt his skin prickle as he looked around; the brown coloured tunnels just seemed to press in on them- he rubbed a hand down his forearm as he felt his stomach flip a little as they walked on.

Aramis was in front, with Athos very close behind, leaving Porthos and him at the rear- the young Gascon really didn't want to be the last person in the group, but he knew he couldn't say anything.

He sniffed, the smells down here were thick, like he could taste them; it smelled musty and ancient...he tried to stop himself looking at the tunnel walls for fear of looking at another skull.

He had the sudden urge to cough, but managed to suppress it; he almost sighed in relief as it passed and he was able to keep walking...seconds later he saw a flurry of dust fall from the top of the tunnel. With a thrill of horror he held his nose as it settled on his face; he tried to muffle the sneeze as best as he could, but the noise still reverberated around the cavernous tunnels.

Three faces turned to him as the noise subsided. 'Sorry...' He whispered, cheeks a little pink even in the darkness. 'Couldn't help it...'

Aramis grinned but said nothing- he knew the lad didn't mean to.

'Come on.' Athos whispered gruffly, turning away. Before they could even take their next step they heard it- a dull thump ahead of them. The sound of water sloshing followed, along with what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Each Musketeer flattened themselves to the tunnel walls, hands to their weapons. 'Thats got to be Duval...' D'Artagnan whispered. Aramis tried to crane his neck to see, his eyes fiery with anger even in the glow of the torches.

'Why would he still be down here?' Porthos replied. 'I'd be long gone by now.'

'Is that you, Aramis?' Came a sing song voice from the darkness up ahead of them. 'Come down to the tunnels to play?' A jeering laugh made the hairs on the back of d'Artagnan's neck stand up.

'Want to have a repeat of what happened the last time we met?' The threat was thrown out with venom. 'You know I'll win again!'

'He's playing with us,' Athos stated in a dark low voice, shaking his head. 'We should not give him the satis- Aramis!' Athos threw out a hand, but it was too late- Aramis stepped free of his grasp and took off down the tunnel, torch forgotten, in the direction of the laugh, which got louder above the din of Aramis' boot falls.

'Aramis, no!' Porthos yelled- Athos was running in seconds, eyes wide as he watched his friend tear down the tight tunnels. 'Aramis come back!' He shouted- his eyes widened as the tunnel suddenly turned left; the tunnel seemed to immediately get narrower. He skidded to a halt as Aramis narrowly avoided hitting his head, instead using his elbow and shoulder to take the blow at the crumbling walls.

He too stopped as an echoing crack sounded above their heads- 'Aramis stay still!' Athos shouted, before his eyes widened as the noise became more pronounced.

Aramis turned round, his own eyes wide with horror as he looked at his friend- Porthos and d'Artagnan rounded the corner seconds later. Porthos knew what was about to happen in an instant.

'Get back!' He yelled to d'Artagnan, throwing out a hand as dust suddenly cascaded down from the ceiling. D'Artagnan almost lost his balance as large rocks suddenly fell around them; in the end it was Porthos who pushed him to the ground, blocking him from the rocks with own body as the deafening noise of the tunnel collapsing rang in their ears.

Back up the tunnel Athos felt a strong hand on his shoulder grasping his coat tight- Aramis pulled him with all his might, and they both fell to the ground as dust clouded their vision and darkness enveloped them...

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, next chapter up soon!**

 **Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

_Come on d'Artagnan, it'll be dark soon!' The boy urged, pushing him in the small of the back in an effort to jolt him forwards, 'then your daddy will be worried!' The word "daddy" was high and childlike, making the other boys giggle as they pushed the ten year old forwards. D'Artagnan scowled at them- so what if his father was a little more protective of him than the other children's. Ever since Ma had passed he had kept a close eye on him, is all. D'Artagnan pushed his hair out of his eyes as he was bustled forwards by them; they were in a large ploughed field that belonged to one of the child's fathers- this naturally gave the other children free reign to run around on it and get up to all sorts of trouble._

 _The dark brown earth was heavy and crumbly underfoot, and his feet were beginning to ache as he and the other boys ran towards the far end, to a place nestled in a lonely corner that the others had been just dying to show the young Gascon._

 _'Like it?' Marc, one of the older boys, muttered, putting a hand on the younger boy's shoulder to keep him there._

 _'Suppose,' d'Artagnan replied with a shrug. It was a small, one storey brick outhouse that probably belonged to a groundskeeper one upon a time. It was very old, with vines of green weeds snaking up the brickwork. The windows were empty of glass and instead were adorned by spiderwebs- it looked like any old rickety building d'Artagnan had seen._

 _'What's so special about it?'_

 _'You haven't heard?' One of the others boys asked, before being given a hard jab in the ribs by Marc._

 _'Shut it! He hissed, the freckles running across his nose visible in the sunset. He cast d'Artagnan a sideways look. 'Of course you've heard about the...well, you know...' He trailed off._

 _'Know what?' D'Artagnan replied, chin jutted out as the others began whispering behind their hands. 'What? Tell me!'_

 _'You know the story of...the Grey Witch?' Marc said in a hurried whisper. 'She used to live here- until one day some men from the village burnt her alive in her house!' He added, eyes narrowed. 'Some say she's still here...'_

 _'Really?' D'Artagnan wasn't impressed. 'Fascinating.'_

 _'You can laugh-' Marc muttered, coming up behind the younger boy. He gave him a shove, sending him forwards into the dark room inside the building. '-say hello to her from us!' He cackled as d'Artagnan stumbled around to regain his footing._

 _'That's not funny, Marc!' He yelled, wheeling round in the darkness- he threw himself towards the light, only for Marc to shake his head with an evil grin and then shut the door, enveloping him in darkness._

 _'This isn't funny! Let me out!' D'Artagnan screamed, trying not to let his voice tremble. 'You've had your fun!' He banged on the door, ignoring the plume of dust cascade from the ceiling onto his hair. 'Let me out!' He listened at the door, anger rising as he heard the others laugh at him. Using both fists he ran at the door, pummelling it in an effort to get it open- the ceiling, ancient and crumbling, finally allowed gravity to take it's natural course._

 _'Help! H-help!' D'Artagnan cried, eyes wide as he heard a horrible crack. Dust poured down, and there was a noise as the bricks, old and fragile, loosened in the walls. 'Let me out! Please!' Panic made his voice whine, which made the laughter worse. 'Help! It's coming down! Help!' Seconds later, the ceiling caved in on him..._

* * *

'Everyone all right?!' Porthos yelled as the dust settled. 'Aramis? Athos?' He looked around, coughing into the back of his hand as he shook his hair free of the white dust. He rolled his shoulder, wincing as he felt bruised muscles protest; those rocks were pretty hard.

Looking round, he spotted d'Artagnan lying on the floor, breathing heavily- he could see his chest rising and falling as he fought for breath. - 'you alright?' He asked, coming round to kneel next to him. No, he noted a second later; he most definitely was not all right. 'Hey,' he muttered, putting a hand on his shoulder- he could feel the lad shaking violently under his palm, 'it's alright, you're alright...' He frowned as d'Artagnan shook his head at his words, his eyes wide as saucers. 'No, no...' He whispered, face almost entirely white with dust. 'Not again...' He gulped, his breathing erratic.

'Just breathe, lad-' Porthos muttered, 'you're alright...just breathe...'

'Porthos!' The older man turned his head as he heard Athos call his name. 'You both alright?'

'We're alright!' He called back, before looking down as d'Artagnan coughed hard into his hand, before his breathing seemed to constrict. 'Can't...breathe...' He whispered, shaky hands falling into they grasped Porthos' sleeve and gripped it tight. Small, panicked whimpers made their way from his mouth as his eyes flitted from side to side.

'Oh, Christ,' Porthos muttered- he gently wiped a hand down the younger man's face to get rid of the dust as d'Artagnan still struggled for breath. 'You need to breathe- nice and slow, in and out...' He looked the younger man in the face. 'In...' He breathed deeply in, waiting for d'Artagnan to do the same. 'Now...out...' He breathed out, nodding as he copied him. 'That's it..come on, breathe...'

'Porthos?' Athos' voice cut in. 'What's happening?'

'I think d'Artagnan is panicking!' He yelled back, putting a hand on the other man's shoulder. 'Help!'

'Come on, d'Artagnan!' Athos shouted into the rocks to the other two men. 'Calm down!'

'D'artagnan, you're alright!' Aramis yelled, guilt trickling into his chest as he and Athos tried move the rocks that now separated the four of them. 'Everything is fine!'

'Is it?' Athos muttered, 'looks to me like you just dropped a quarry full of rocks onto him.'

'I didn't mean to!'

'If you had just listened-'

'Hey, could you two fight later, perhaps?!' Porthos yelled, his voice loud and jolting even from the other side of a tonne of rocks. D'Artagnan was gripping his sleeve again, and he wasn't about to make him let go. 'That's it...just breathe...easy...' He soothed. Even he had started panicking a little as the rocks had been coming down- he had made sure the lad wasn't hurt, but he wasn't sure his shoulder would thank him for it. A few minutes of forced-calm breathing, and d'Artagnan was almost breathing normally again.

'T-hanks... He muttered shakily, wiping his sweaty face. 'I don't normally panic...'

'Don't mention it,' Porthos replied as he sat back. 'I can- sort of- deal with things like that, but broken bones- nah.' D'Artagnan gave a shaky laugh, making Porthos snort and clap a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

'You both alright now?' Athos called through.

'As we can be.' Porthos replied in a loud voice. 'How about you two?'

'Oh, I think we'll survive.' Athos muttered, turning a hard look on Aramis. 'Any ideas on how to move these rocks?' He yelled back.

'I don't think we will-' Porthos yelled as he stood and made his way to the rocks. 'They're pretty heavy...I don't think even I have the strength to lift them!'

'Give it a go- we may be able to shift it enough to let us back through!' Athos yelled, before sighing a little.

'Why do we want to go back through in that direction?' Aramis muttered, looking back towards the never-ending darkness of the tunnel in front of them; if he listened hard enough he knew he'd hear Duval making his escape. 'We should keep going!'

'And risk more collapses?' Athos shot him a look. 'I kind of like breathing and living, don't you?'

'But we could go after him n-'

'No, Aramis!' Athos' eyes were fiery now as he stepped back from the rocks to look at his dear friend. 'We have to get out of this place- it could go at any moment- d'Artagnan and Porthos could be buried under it next time!'

Aramis suddenly had a horrible vision of trying to dig Porthos and the lad out of the rocks and fell silent. He couldn't jeopardise his friend's safety and well being for his quest to deliver justice to Duval, no matter how much he wanted revenge for what had happened before. He nodded a little, eyes solemn as he looked across at Athos. 'Alright.' He muttered, 'we'll go back.'

'Good choice.' Athos nodded, before they both looked up as Porthos gave a sudden yell of warning- he yelled in surprise as a rock as big as his head suddenly dislodged from the wall and began falling forwards in his direction- Aramis pulled him backwards just in time, pulling him close to his chest as more rocks cascaded forwards.

'Bugger!' They both heard Porthos exclaim as the dust settled again. 'I think I may have taken out the wrong one!'

'Perfect...' Athos whispered, wiping his face as Aramis let him go. They both walked up to the wall of rocks again. 'There's no way we're going to dig through this...' He added.

'Well, this place is full of twists and turns,' Aramis muttered. 'We'll meet again in a tunnel at some point.'

'What if we don't?'

'Then we make our own ways out.'

'...d'you guys want to let us in on your plans?' Porthos yelled through the rocks. 'We ain't mind readers, you know!'

'Porthos, you and d'Artagnan make you're way back to the entrance- we'll go around and try and meet up with you along the way!' Aramis yelled back.

Porthos took a breath at their words, turning to d'Artagnan with a frown. 'What if they don't meet us?' He growled.

D'Artagnan shrugged as he stood up, wiping down his coat. His panic levels were still pretty high, but he knew he could control them now. 'I guess we just go and get help.' He replied.

'Guess so...' He picked up one of the forgotten torches, relieved that it was still alight. 'You got light?' He yelled at the other two. They heard a muffled scrabbling. 'Yeah...' He heard Aramis confirm.

'Alright- if you're not back by the time we reach the entrance we're sending in a search party!'

'Much appreciated, my friend!'

'Stay safe you two!'

'And you- remember Duval is still out there!'

'Shit, I'd forgotten about him!' Porthos growled.

'Lucky you.' Aramis muttered snarkily, before he pushed himself away from the wall and faced Athos again. 'If we do find him, I won't hesitate.' He stated, watching as Athos fiddled with their only source of light.

'And I won't stop you.' Athos replied, looking up at his friend as memories of their last meeting swam in his mind- he wanted Duval dead as much as Aramis, but he knew duty came first. 'You have my word.'

Aramis nodded a little, before giving a sigh as he heard Porthos muttering to d'Artagnan.

'They'll be alright, Mis.' Athos muttered, before standing ready. 'We should go.'

'Alright-' he turned to the wall and cupped his hands around his mouth. '-see you guys on the other side!' He yelled.

'Have fun!' He heard Porthos yell back. He suppressed a snort; he was grateful of Porthos and his knack of making light out of challenging situations.

'Come on then,' Athos muttered from behind him. 'Lets get going.'

He nodded and started to follow, unsure of whether this would be the last time he would hear from Porthos and d'Artagnan before they walked into the darkness of the tunnel, letting it swallow them up.

 **Thanks for reading! Next chapter- the backstory between Aramis and Duval, and things go from bad to worse...**

 **Please review!**

 **X**


	4. Chapter 4

The damp walls only seemed to get narrower, d'Artagnan mused as he and Porthos slowly picked their way through the semi darkness. The only noises in the tunnels were their breathing and the wet thumps of their footfalls; one or twice d'Artagnan through the heard a noise, only to peer around and see nothing. He swallowed, noting how he could even hear his heartbeat in the muffled silence.

'So,' he started, eyes widening a little as Porthos stopped, put a hand on his chest and gave him a look.

'Don't _do_ that!' He hissed, rubbing his coat over his heart. 'Give a man a warning when you're going to speak!' He added, before giving the lad a small smile. 'Gave me a frigging scare!'

'Sorry,' d'Artagnan whispered, lowering his voice. He cleared his throat as Porthos chuckled. 'So, what's with Aramis and Duval, anyway?' The question hung in the still air for a while; Porthos seemed to be collecting his thoughts.

'Well...' He began, before they both stopped as they heard a scurrying behind them- a loud chittering followed by a squeak heralded the arrival of a large rat, which bounded past the two men and carried on down the tunnel, the noise echoing loudly in the air.

'Didn't think there'd be any life down here,' d'Artagnan said, shrugging.

'Me neither,' Porthos agreed, 'probably came in when we did.' He added, before clearing his own throat. 'Duval was one of Aramis' first missions when he was commissioned.' He began, as they slowly began their walk again. 'It was the summer after Savoy, and he was still suffering with it- nightmares, flashbacks, that sort of thing.' His voice took on a sombre tone. 'I hardly knew the guy and it broke my heart watching him battle all that inside him.' He looked across to d'Artagnan, who lowered his eyes at the look in his eyes.

'Once or twice I was close to asking Treville to let him go, to retire him from soldiering so he didn't have to deal with daily reminders of a life like this.' Porthos gave a rough laugh. 'Good job I was wrong.'

'Where does Duval come into this?' D'Artagnan asked, curious.

'I'm coming to that,' Porthos nodded- the tunnel shifted here and they turned a corner, where they stepped through a doorway into the next tunnel. 'That summer there was a rash of murders- women, men, soldiers, peasants...didn't matter to this guy.' His voice turned hard.

'Tested the stomach of every musketeer that came to oversee the case- even Athos had to stop while looking at some of the bodies...he just tore into them like a butcher.' He breathed in deeply, before continuing in a hollow voice, 'Only Aramis could look at their bodies and not flinch or turn away.'

'Because of what he saw at Savoy?' D'Artagnan asked, eyes wide and a fleeting sense of horror in his belly.

Porthos nodded sadly. 'I think so, he never said.' He cleared his throat again before continuing. 'I think it was the sheer brutality of it that made Aramis take it personally in the end. He saw true horror in the forest at Savoy- unexplained, ferocious killing. This was the same- there was no reason for it .' The older man kicked a stone, listening for a while as it bounced along the corridor before landing with a plop in a puddle. 'By the end he was killing two a week- we didn't know anything about him; why he was doing it, where he was hiding...he just appeared and vanished into thin air.' D'Artagnan shook his head as they continued, before ducking their heads as the tunnel curved around.

'Aramis became obsessed at finding him. Stayed up late every night, poring over hand drawn maps he'd made of the murder scenes, conducting loads of house to house enquiries. Did better than Treville had ever wanted...' Porthos sighed. 'I think it was his way of coping with Savoy- he couldn't solve what had happened to him and his comrades there...he wanted to bring closure to the families so they didn't suffer as he was.'

'Poor guy.' D'Artagnan whispered, sniffling slightly as they turned another corner. A wall adorned with skulls was on his right; he carefully averted his eyes.

'Yeah, it was sad, watching him give his all to this case,' Porthos nodded. 'But it was, I don't know...admirable, in a way.' He coughed into the back of his hand.

'One day we got a lead- a woman hanging her washing out in her courtyard heard a commotion in the next alley down...she watched a guy in a black cloak, his hands red with blood, tear off down the street. Turned out he'd just killed the brother of a Red Guard.' He sniffed, before coughing again- he tapped at his chest before continuing.

'We were at the first at the scene, and we were the first to give chase- Aramis was faster than all of us, and pretty soon he had caught up with him. Turned out that Duval knew all about Aramis; what he was doing, how hard he was trying to catch him...' Porthos' voice turned dark again. 'He called him by his name as they stood facing each other, mocked him about what he'd done to those poor people, describing it in detail, before jeering at him about not trying hard enough to save his friends at Savoy,' Porthos looked disgusted, even in the darkness. 'He still hasn't said who told him about Savoy, or how he knew Aramis was involved.' He muttered tersely, kicking another rock.

'Aramis was out for blood after that- he nearly shot him there and then- but knew that we had to bring him in alive- there was a scuffle and Duval managed to catch him with his knife, in his chest. Duval probably thought it would bring him down, but Aramis got straight back up and ran after him, leaving us in the dust...' Porthos gave a snort. 'Aramis was too quick for him; almost dragged him down by his hair in the end. We allowed Aramis a few, uh, choice moments, with him...nothing to hurt him too bad, but enough to make Aramis feel a little better...' He gave d'Artagnan a short look, to which he replied with a knowing smile. 'He was arrested and we hadn't heard from him since.' He finished with a shrug. 'Aramis never spoke about him, never acknowledged his existence, even when younger recruits asked about the murders of that summer.'

D'Artagnan gave a low whistle, shaking his head. 'No wonder he was so angry when he escaped.'

Porthos mumbled an agreement, before he stopped short, flinging a hand out to stop d'Artagnan too. 'What?' The younger man muttered, frowning in the semi darkness. 'What's wrong.'

'Shit.' Porthos growled, eyes wide as he looked round. 'Damn it!'

'What?!' D'Artagnan was alarmed now. 'What's the matter?'

'We've passed this before,' Porthos muttered, nodding his head towards a rock with a chalk X carved onto it.

'How can you tell?' D'Artagnan replied, frowning. 'You can't possibly know that.'

'I just do... we've passed it before-' he sighed, before turning a full 360 degrees and peering around. 'Which means we're lost.' He finished. 'Perfect.'

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, I hope I adequately explained a good enough backstory for you! Next chapter... Athos and Aramis finally catch up with Duval, and some secrets are uncovered...**

 **A/N- I have a poll open on my profile regarding a possible future fic idea- if you have time, I'd love to hear your responses for it!**

 **Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

'How long did Porthos say these tunnels are?' Athos asked quietly; the tunnels seemed to stretch on into darkness forever, with no end in sight. They had walked along in silence mostly, the clinking of ancient water dripping into puddles being the only sound.

'About two hundred miles, I think he said,' Aramis replied in a hushed tone, eyebrows knitted together in a small frown. He was at the front with the torch, but even he was getting slightly panicked about the enormously black strip plunging ever on and on in front of him.

'Lets hope we find a way out soon, then.' Athos growled, rearranging his collar of his coat as he felt a drop of icy water slide down his neck.

Aramis nodded his agreement and ploughed on; they once again retreated into silence as they moved through the labyrinth of blackness. 'It turns here,' he suddenly said, turning to his left and pointing his torch down a winding corridor. 'And it's smaller than this one.'

'Smaller?' Athos repeated, coming across to stand next to his friend. He looked down the corridor- it did indeed seem to curve downwards, and it turned again at the end to the right.

'Well I'm not going down there.' He said shortly, shaking his head. 'We find another way.'

'This is the only way- we passed no other tunnels.'

'Then we go back.'

'We can't just-' a dull noise reverberated around them, but it seemed to be emanating from the tunnel ahead of them.

'Duval...' Aramis whispered, before turning to Athos as his friend began to speak once more. 'Listen, if we go back we risk getting lost. Even if we do make it back to where we started, we'd face an impasse with that rock fall anyway! I say we carry on-' there was another splashing sound, and the sound of deep footfalls echoed around. 'If we meet Duval, then so be it.' He was itching to face the man, but he knew it was more important for them all to get out safely.

Athos looked at him, before breathing in deeply. 'Who died and made you leader?' He muttered, a reigned tone in his voice; he certainly didn't want to go back...but that tunnel looked too narrow and low for his liking. 'You go first.' He added.

Aramis nodded, a small smile on his face. 'Alright-' he whispered, before taking a deep breath of his own and making his way down the tunnel. His eyes widened as after only a few steps he found he had to stoop to stop himself hitting his head.

'Bit tight...' He threw back to Athos in a whisper. 'Careful.'

Athos shushed him as he pushed his musket and sword onto his back more as he too began to stoop. A few more tentative steps and they were both on their hands and knees; Aramis inwardly cursed as he put his knee right into the middle of a murky looking puddle. 'Perfect...' He whispered, before he heard a splash behind him, followed swiftly by Athos muttering his own curse and wiping his hand on Aramis' coat. He grinned to himself, pushing the torch forwards in front of him as he continued.

'You can pay for laundry to sort this out...' He whispered, sighing as all Aramis did was snort in return. They continued their crawling in silence, each man feeling steadily more nervous as the tunnel curved to the right- 'is it too late to go back?' Aramis suddenly muttered, stopping as he fought to keep his heart rate and breathing steady. Athos shook his head, before giving his friend a push up the backside.

'Yes, now keep going- if you make me start reversing I'll ensure you guard the King's bath times for the rest of the year!' He threatened, smiling as Aramis immediately started up crawling again.

Mercifully, the tunnel evened out and the ceiling began to curve upwards- standing up on slightly shaky (and wet) legs, the musketeers found themselves standing in what looked like a small cave. The ground was sandy, and Armais blanched as he waved the torch into the corners and saw they were filled with white, glistening skulls. 'Let's keep going,' he whispered, before they quickly made their way to the large, cavernous door.

A dull noise from somewhere outside the door made them stop, before a laugh, high and jeering, made them flatten themselves against the side of the cave away from the door. Aramis threw the torch over onto the sandy ground, glad when it didn't immediately sputter out. He replaced it with his revolver, but as he went to click off the safety Athos put a gloved hand over his, shaking his head as he whispered 'you want to bring the whole damn tunnel crashing on our heads!?'

Their heads snapped up and they heard heavy boot falls slowly begin to walk near them. 'Aramis, is that you?' A hard, brash voice echoed in the charged air. Aramis said nothing- Athos put a hand on his shoulder and was squeezing it, as though to pin him to the ground.

'Is it, isn't it?' A harsh laugh filled the air. 'I know it is- if it was anyone else they'd be on me by now. Instead you're hiding away in the darkness, hoping to catch me off guard; but I suppose you're good at hiding, aren't you?' A snort now, the noise jarring as Aramis began to shake under Athos' palm.

'You're quite adept at hiding and watching as your friends die around you, like at Savoy- one little injury and you retreated. Left your brothers to die, didn't you?'

'He's trying to rile you...' Athos whispered into his ear, anger coursing through his own being. 'Don't let him win.'

'You hid in a forest and watched as the world turned red around you!'

'It wasn't like that!' Aramis finally yelled, voice cracking slightly with emotion. 'I didn't abandon them!'

'Is that what you tell yourself to keep yourself sane?'

'I was shot and unconscious!' Aramis retorted, struggling against Athos now as the other man fought to stop him from launching himself round the corner.

'You were too weak to stop us!' The laugher was louder, yet the last word seemed loudest of all.

'Us?' The word was quiet, almost a mutter, yet Duval carried on as if it had been shouted.

'We slaughtered you like pigs at market!' Duval sounded closer now, his laughter pounding against Aramis' head as he tried to take it in. 'You tried to fight back but you never had a chance!'

'You're no solider!' Athos spoke this time- he had researched Duval's background for his trial, knee he had never seen action. 'You were a petty thief!'

'Maybe, but we overheard a group of them as they were riding to the forest...all we had to do was follow.' Duval chuckled. 'We killed them along with the soldiers-Easy pickings once those snivelling musketeers were dead. All we had to do was go around and get what we wanted.'

'You killed my brothers and then pilfered from their dead bodies?!' Aramis choked out, eyes wide as he shook his head in fury. Something seemed to snap inside him- this was how Duval knew about Savoy, even though no one had told him anything. This was why he had taken an interest in Aramis, why he taunted him when they met last- he surged forwards, before almost falling to the ground as he realised Athos wasn't holding him back anymore; he looked over his shoulder to see his friend with anger in his own eyes- Athos gave a curt nod, before watching as Aramis wasted no time in scrambling up and tearing out of the door, torch forgotten.

Duval seemed to be expecting this- 'Coming to kill me, are you?!' He shouted, darting into an enclave, grinning sardonically as Aramis ran straight past him.

'Come out and face me like a man!' Aramis yelled, voice reverberating in to darkness. 'You coward!'

'Coward?' The voice was now like is. 'You get the honour of being called coward, Aramis.'

'I am no coward!' Aramis yelled, hurtling back the way he came as the voice directed him. 'I was injured and when I awoke you had killed my brothers!'

'Your brothers died like vermin!' The words were spat out this time. 'They tried to get out of their tents but we were too quick! They screamed and screamed and yet you did not wake!'

'I was unconscious!' Aramis yelled, his voice thick with emotion as memories of that night wove in and out of his mind. 'I don't have to explain myself to you!'

'No, the ones you have to explain yourself to are dead!'

'It wasn't my fault! I-'

'You should have died with them!'

Aramis barked out a small cry and hurtled round another corner, his dagger out and poised in his palm- he caught a shadow moving out of the corner of his eye and threw himself after it. 'Don't you think that that's what I've been thinking all these years!' He yelled, cursing as Duval evaded his grasp and tore off, left and down into another tunnel.

'Aramis!' He heard Athos call from somewhere behind him, his voice muffled and lost through the tunnels. He could think or worry about him now- he had to find Duval...he had to make him pay...

'Your brothers died, and yet you survived!' Duval jeered; he sounded out of breath now, which Aramis took as a good thing.

'I tried to save them!' He wondered why he was rising to this maniac's taunts, but found he just couldn't help himself. Deep-seated issues and answers came poring from his mouth- 'I tried so hard but I just couldn't-'

'You keep telling yourself that! Duval sounded almost close enough to touch- Aramis crept closer, keeping quiet now so Duval wouldn't hear his approach.

It wasn't quiet enough- he gasped as the blade slashed at his shoulder, before dropping to one knee as it bit at his chest seconds later. A knee to the chest and he sprawled to the wet floor; he groaned as his head connected with the damp rocks of the tunnel- stars erupted before a kick in his stomach drove the breath out of his body.

'Even now you're just a weak man,' Duval growled as he stepped closer. He gripped Aramis' coat and pulled him upwards a little, before bringing his mouth close to his ear as the other man fought for breath.

'Your friends died alone screaming in their underclothes, convinced someone would save them,' he spat, flecks of saliva hitting Aramis' neck and cheek, before he punched Aramis in the face and the musketeer was roughly pushed to the ground and kicked in the chest again. 'And now look- funny how things turn out.' He motioned the situation as Aramis struggled upwards; he felt blood leak from the wound and drip into the puddles he was lying in. 'Here you are, alone, convinced someone will save you.' He gave a brash chuckle, before unsheathing a short dagger and coming closer.

'At least you'll finally get to die like your friends.' He muttered, before raising the dagger- his eyes bulged suddenly, the pupils swivelling round as he stood rigidly upright, a horrible gurgling sound erupting from his mouth. 'Someone will always be there to save him!' Athos spat, before digging his blade up to the hilt in Duval's back. He stepped back, anger in his eyes as Duval crumpled to the ground, shuddered, and was finally still.

* * *

 **There's still a lot more to come, don't worry!**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Please review! Xx**


	6. Chapter 6

'This way!' D'Artagnan called, hurrying ahead of the other man as he turned yet another corner.

'You sure?' Porthos replied in a slightly annoyed voice. 'We ain't had much luck so far...'

'This has got to be the right way,' the younger man muttered as he waited for him to follow. 'There's no other way out.' He swallowed nervously, before raising a hand to his mouth and biting at his fingernails; Porthos, who knew that the lad only did this when he was truly agitated, pushed his hand down and gave him a kind smile. 'We'll just go back if it's not, alright?' He muttered, his voice echoing along the walls.

As they started up walking again he wiped a suddenly tired hand down his sweaty face; how long had they been down here? 'What do you reckon the time is?' He asked the Gascon, more to make conversation than to get an actual answer. D'Artagnan shook his head with a shrug, his face more pallid than usual. 'Don't know.' He replied, voice slightly higher than it had been. 'We could have been down here a week and we'd never know about it.'

'Now's not the time to panic, alright?' The older man advised, giving him a concerned look. 'We'll get out...although a map would have been nice.'

'What if we don't get out?' D'Artagnan sounded agitated now. 'What if we're lost down here forever and they don't find us for years and years and when they open up these tunnels and come down here they'll just find-'

'That's enough!' Porthos snapped, jolting d'Artagnan out of his panic. He looked across at him with wide eyes, before he nodded and took a deep breath.

'Sorry,' he whispered, trying hard not to wring his hands or bite his nails again. 'I think I must have panicked a little...'

'A little?' Porthos scoffed, before putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly. 'We're getting out, he muttered softly, giving him a resolute nod. 'We're going to find a way out and-'

'What about Aramis and Athos? What if we never find them?'

'...I'm not leaving here without 'em.' Porthos growled, looking further down the corridor. 'That's for damn sure.'

They walked along in silence now, only stopping to asses the next turn or tunnel opening, and speaking only to agree on whether or not to go down there. Some of the tunnels were too small for Porthos to get through, and d'Artagnan wouldn't have gone through them anyway; they looked cramped and likely to break.

'What about this one?' D'Artagnan muttered after a few minutes of calmness. He pointed across to their left, at a wide tunnel opening that led to a cavern of blackness. Porthos studied it, before stepping forwards to look around. 'There's nothing in it...' He reported with a resigned voice. 'Its just a big empty cave.' He stepped into it, feeling sand underfoot as he surveyed the room. As he had the only source of light, he wielded the torch in front of him as d'Artagnan followed on close behind.

'Look-' the younger man muttered, nodding his head to the corner. Piles upon piles of skulls were stacked against the black, damp walls. 'More skulls.'

'Hmm...' Porthos murmured, lip slightly turned up as he cast he light on the shining white skulls. 'Wonder where all the skeletons are?'

D'Artagnan's eyes widened at the thought; he cleared his throat and ventured a little way out of the light's yellow circle of warmth. In the semi darkness he peered around at the walls; they were running with water and skulls were still dotted around; he breathed in deeply and continued. Stooping lower, he caught sight of a patch of absolute blackness...a different kind of darkness against the glistening walls. 'What the...' He whispered, kneeling down and moving his hand in front of it, he almost let out a startled cry as his hand fell straight through it. It was the entrance to a tunnel...and lying on the floor was-'

'Porthos!' He called, his voice echoing harshly against the rocks. 'Look!'

'What?' The other man muttered, coming to stand next to him and throwing light upon the tunnel entrance. D'Artagnan was holding a scarf, stained with water and mud, but definitely familiar to the both of them. 'That's Athos' scarf...' He said allowed, frowning. He looked round, at the entrance to the cave they were in.

'Surely we would have passed them if they were here?'

'Why would Athos have left his scarf here?' D'Artagnan answered, standing up and pocketing the material. 'He wouldn't leave it down here.'

'Not on purpose,' Porthos wondered aloud, before his eyes widened as comprehension dawned. 'Unless...' He looked up at d'Artagnan, a dark look on his face. 'Duval.'

'Duval?' D'Artagnan was instantly alert. 'You think he's still here?'

'I think there was a struggle,' Porthos nodded slowly, 'and I think they need help.' He sniffed and walked back to the entrance of the tunnel, leaving d'Artagnan in sudden cold darkness. 'Come on!' D'Artagnan nodded and made to follow, before an idea crossed his mind; hoping his mentor wouldn't be too angry at him for leaving it behind, he took out the scarf again, folded it neatly into a square and placed it at the middle of the entrance of the tunnel. Just in case they needed a marker if they got lost again.

'Hey-' Porthos' voice boomed around the cave. 'You coming or what?'

* * *

'Aramis?' Athos was urgent as he bent to check on his friend. 'Aramis, answer me!'

'Whgnnn' Aramis groaned as he allowed himself to be hauled into a sitting position. 'M'kay...' He muttered, wiping a slightly shaky hand down his face. His felt felt very bruised, and as he tried to move an almighty pain flourished in his shoulder.. 'M'be alright...'

'You certainly look fine..' Athos commented drily. He scanned his friend's face and body, assessing his wound and what needed to be tended to first; his face was bruised and his left eye was puffy, with rivets of drying and congealed blood snaking a trail down from his nose to his chin, and from a cut to his eye down his face. His shoulder was surprisingly better than he thought he was going to be; it was evident Duval had been a little further away when he swung the knife than he would have liked. He peered at his chest wound, noting the small cut had mostly pierced his boiled leather, and not too much of the skin underneath it. 'Just a nick...' He muttered, before reaching into his pocket for his scarf, only to find it missing.

'Here, take mine..' Aramis whispered as Athos patted himself down. Athos nodded in thanks and pressed it to the wound, making the other man hiss in pain. They sat back in silence as Athos looked around; he had never felt more alone and helpless than he did now, but he knew he couldn't show this to Aramis.

'Duval?' Aramis muttered eventually, groaning as Athos turned him to the right to check his face again.

'Dead.' The word was sharp and final. Athos looked at his friend, a sudden apologetic look in his eyes. 'Sorry for, uh, stealing your moment, as it were,' he muttered, turning an impassive look at the corpse in the water next to them. 'Couldn't really be avoid, in the end.'

'That's alright,' Aramis have him a pained smile. 'At least he didn't run off again.'

'Aramis,' Athos muttered as he finally stopped and sat back. 'What that lowlife said...what he insinuated...you don't ever believe it, you hear?' He cast him a strong look.

Aramis gave a small snort, before wincing as he jolted his shoulder. 'I believed it long before he mentioned it, my friend...' He replied, a sad tone to his voice. 'Perhaps now it is time to let it go...'

'There is no perhaps about it,' Athos replied, 'you were not to blame for their fates, and you never will be.'

Aramis nodded, before looking round at the dark room. 'What will we do with his body?' He asked, wincing. 'I'm sure Treville would like a body to show off.'

'Do you want to carry it?'

'No.'

'Neither do I.' Athos growled, standing up and wiping his hands down his trousers. 'He stays here.' He took a deep breath and looked round. 'Lets go and find the others, he finally muttered. 'I'm getting sick of the dark.'

'You read my mind, my friend.' Aramis smiled, holding out a hand. 'Hopefully they're not too lost.'

'Ready?'

'As always.'

'Right...' Athos took his hand and support his injured shoulder, before hauling the other man up as Aramis used his body for leverage. He groaned into the other man's shoulder as he fought to keep upright. 'Just lean on me when you need to, Mis.' Athos muttered, clasping a hand around his waist as Aramis swayed.

Aramis felt a rush of light headiness as he stood; he blinked a few times as the blood rushed to his face. His shoulder flourished in pain once again, but he was thankful he was not more badly injured. He was quite sure he had either bruised or broken some ribs as he felt a dull pain throb through his side.

'Alright?' Athos asked, voice steeped in concern.

'I...think so...' He replied, giving him a small smile. 'Thank you, my friend.'

'Don't mention it,' Athos stated with a snort, before looking to the entrance of the tunnel they were in. 'Let's go then.' He muttered, before helping Aramis to move forwards.

* * *

'They have to be round here somewhere!' D'Artagnan muttered, all at once noticing the complete _silence_ of the tunnels now. There was absolutely no sound...nothing to suggest that the two of them were anything but alone down in the catacombs.

'Maybe they got out already?' Porthos replied as they hurried along- the pace and atmosphere had changed from a lighthearted but subdued confusion to barely suppressed panic; he breathed in deeply to quell his hammering heart. The discovery of Athos' scarf only succeeded in making him more nervous and concerned for the safety of their friends.

'How?' D'Artagnan's voice had the air of a panicked challenge in it. 'Without passing us?'

'They could have got out ages ago, and we've just been wandering around here trying to find something that ain't there!'

'They would have tried to look for us, like we are for them!' The younger man challenged, before they turned yet another corner into a tight tunnel. 'Oh, come on!' He yelled, clenching his fists as a wave of panic washed over him. 'Give us a break!'

'Hey- calm down!' Porthos growled, putting his hands on the younger man's shoulder and shaking him a little. 'I need you to be calm- if Duval is still out there, we need to be quiet!'

'Okay...okay...' D'Artagnan whispered, nodding, 'Sorry, again.'

'Its alright...just, stick close and just breathe, alright?'

'Yes,' the Gascon nodded, and he fell into step behind the larger man, his world in semi darkness again. He swallowed hard, feeling his heart in his ears as he did so- his stomach was doing somersaults and his skin felt prickly as he followed Porthos through yet another labyrinthine tunnel.

'We've got to be close to the entrance now...' He heard him mutter under his breath. The tunnel wound on and on, and d'Artagnan could hear the other man's breathing get harsher and louder as the minutes wore on.

A sudden splash behind them made d'Artagnan wheel round- he looked to his left, before his eyes widened as he saw an all too familiar sight. 'You've got to be joking...' He whispered, before walking slowly, as if in a daze, to the entrance of a large, sandy cave. He picked up the scarf with shaky hands, this time putting it in his pocket, before turning round to Porthos, who looked as dejected and horrified as he felt.

'We've just gone round in a bloody circle!' He growled, arms raised in defeat at last. 'I- I don't know what to do...' He muttered, taking a deep, shaky breath. 'I'm out of ideas.'

'How about ...what if we just shout out?' D'Artagnan replied with a shrug. 'We've got weapons we can use if Duval answers us.' He swallowed hard, his heart practically doing flips in his chest.

'I don't...' Porthos looked torn. They both looked round as they heard dulls thuds, like footsteps, in the tunnel to their left. 'You've got to be kidding me- d'Artagnan, come here!' Porthos growled, flattening himself against the wall. D'Artagnan did the same, and they listened as they waited for more moment.

The splashing caught their ears the next moment; d'Artagnan closed his fist around his sword; he didn't fancy taking his chances with Duval down here, not by the way Aramis had spoken about him.

A harsh, deep voice echoed around, but not clear enough so he could make out words or tone- he steeled himself and walked a little more forwards, past Porthos and the torch and more to the blackness of the next tunnel.

He felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck as he heard heavier, dull noises ahead of him in the tunnel; his mouth was suddenly dry, and his hands felt sweaty as he brought up his blade.

A large, hulking shadow came round the corner towards him, lurching forwards towards the younger man in the pitch darkness. Without thinking, he raised his sword to protect himself.

A groan of pain enveloped him (so familiar now) and as he dropped the blade in shock, a figure dropped to the catacomb floor.

* * *

 **A cliffhanger for Christmas... ^^ hope you all liked this chapter!**

 **Next chapter will be after Christmas- I hope you all have a great one!**

 **Please review!**

 **X**


	7. Chapter 7

There was a stunned silence, lasting for only a split second- d'Artagnan backed away, eyes wide and hands shaking, as he looked down at what he had done; he started with a cry as someone came up behind him and clasped both hands on his shoulders, pulling him out of the way...he fell back against the dripping wall of the tunnel as Porthos fell to his knees beside his fallen comrade. D'Artagnan put out a hand to steady his shaking legs, now not caring when he he accidentally brushed against a skull; his fingers slipped inside an empty eye socket, but the bile that rose from his throat did not come from that, instead it came from the realisation that he may well have just killed one of his friends.

'Aramis?!' Porthos grunted, hands already slick with crimson as he fought to control the bleeding; his friend's face was ashen white, so he knew he had to act fast. 'Aramis!' He growled again, now fisting the wound with a gloved hand. A high agonised keen of pain echoed around the dank tunnel as the figure on the ground curled around on itself.

Two shaky hands, also wet with blood, linked around his huge hand, squeezing weakly in protest as a cry escaped his lips. 'Aramis, we need help now!' Porthos shouted.

'I'm coming...' Aramis cried, eyes wide as he too knelt before Athos, who was still lying on the floor, blood oozing from the wound to his stomach. He tried to withhold a cry of agony, but only succeeded in producing a mangled cry that made the hair on the back of Aramis' neck stand up as he tried to kneel in the compacted tunnel next to Porthos. His own wounds flourished in pain, but he pushed them away as he surveyed the damage done to his friend.

'Athos...' Aramis whispered, pushing wet hair from his friend's forehead so he could see his face better, 'Athos I need you to look at me...' Athos did so, his eyes almost closed as he winced in pain.

'You're alright, you're alright...' He started, like a mantra as Athos closed a gloved hand around his wrist.

'Dar...dar...' He growled, before breathing heavily through his nose as Porthos shoved a fistful of clean cloth into the wound to stopper the bleeding.

D'Artagnan?' Aramis asked, eyes flicking to the youngest, who had not yet moved from his spot by the wall.

'Mhmm...' Athos nodded weakly, eyes swivelling. 'W-where?'

'He's alright, Athos...he's over there.' Aramis nodded his head to d'Artagnan. Still the younger man did not move. 'He's in shock, I think.' He muttered, before carrying on with his job. 'You need to lie back, that's it-' he and Porthos helped him to lay on his back, and with deft hands Aramis began to unbutton Athos' leathers, undercoat and shirts; Athos breathed through the pain as Porthos pressed onto the wound as each layer of clothing was shifted, until finally they found bloodied skin.

'How...bad?' Athos groaned, eyes squeezed shut as Athos took some clean linen from his pack and applied it to the wound. 'Not so hard!'

'I have to stop the bleeding or you'll die before we get back to the top!' Aramis muttered, cursing his shaky fingers as he fumbled for his supplies. He took a few seconds to look at the wound; it was leaking blood from a large slit that seemed to go deep into the side of their leader. A few inches to the left and Athos would not have been so lucky... 'I need to stitch this...' He whispered as Athos groaned again, the noise echoing around them.

'In this light?' D'Artagnan seemed to finally find his voice. He looked across at Aramis with wide eyes. 'Are you sure you can do that?'

'Well if you hadn't of stabbed him he wouldn't need to stitch him up, would he?' The disdain and anger in Porthos' voice was evident. He sat back, breathing heavily, as Aramis shot him a look.

'It was an accident,' he muttered, before looking up at d'Artagnan. 'I can do it, don't worry, lad...' He whispered, before turning back to Athos, who was shaking violently now. 'You need to stay calm, Athos...' He started, before fixing up the needle and thread.

A hand, wet with blood, curled itself around his wrist as he finalised the equipment; Athos, his face pinched with pain and as white as snow, looked up at him with wide eyes. 'W-will this wa-work?' He murmured, before he cried out again in pain.

Aramis looked across to Porthos, who now looked grave. Athos was the least likely to go in for near-death dramatics. He was usually silent when he was hurt...he preferred to let Aramis or whoever nurse his wounds so he could get back to work as soon as possible. To have their leader ask if a treatment would work only made them feel like something bad was going to happen.

The medic swallowed as he considered his words. 'I need to do this,' he muttered, holding up the needle and thread. 'This should work, and we can get you to the top so we can sort you out properly,' he nodded down to Athos, who replied with a weak nod and sank back to the wet ground, eyes squeezed shut once more.

'Athos I-' d'Artagnan had come closer; his knocking knees nearly failed him and he had almost fallen on the way to him, but as he stepped over his leader to come to a stop by his head, he was relieved to see Athos open his eyes as he dropped to his knees. 'I'm so-'

'If you s-say you're...argh!' He groaned out as Aramis poured some of his water into the wound. 'Sorry...' he continued, voice now tight with barely controlled pain, 'I will tie you up in wa-one of these caves and le-leave you here forever...' He finished, breathing haggardly as if he had just run the length of Paris.

He lifted a shaking, crimson painted hand and let it drop onto d'Artagnan's knee. 'You..were doing your ja-job...' He sucked in a breath from gritted teeth; the hand around d'Artagnan's knee tightened as another wave of agony passed through him. 'You we-weren't to know it was uh-us...'

'We really should have yelled when we came round the corners,' Aramis conceded with a small nod. 'Seeing as how Duval is dead and all-'

'Dead?' Porthos echoed, eyes wide. 'When?'

'We found him in the tunnels and Athos taught him the error of his ways,' Aramis replied, before readying himself for the task ahead.

'Ba-bastard.' Athos growled out.

'I haven't done anything yet!'

'No... D-Duval...'

'Oh...' Aramis gave him a small half-smile before kneeling at his side. 'So, how do you want to do this?' He asked quietly, breathing in deeply. 'The Porthos way or the painful way?' Porthos arched an eyebrow at him, before gently releasing the pressure on Athos' stomach. 'We should knock him out...' He whispered. 'This ain't gonna be pretty.' He then picked up the torch that had fallen to the damp ground...holding it aloft above their heads, they looked to Athos for his answer.

'Just d-do it...' Athos groaned as pain flourished in his stomach again. He tensed up Aramis came closer; he leaned to the side as his trusted medic bent forwards, the threaded needle in hand. Seconds later, the needle pierced his skin- he expected pain as Aramis began his work, and he had tensed himself up, ready for the agony, but there was none. Athos didn't know whether to be pleased or worried; he looked up at Aramis, who looked the picture of concentration.

'Why n-no pain?' He asked, teeth chattering together. A drop of icy water fell from the cavern above their heads and landed with a clink on his cheek.

'I'm trying a new method,' Aramis muttered, eyebrows knitted together as he took the needle through his skin and out the other side. 'The only reason it didn't hurt then is because I didn't put it in very deep.'

'Just wait,' Porthos added in a dark voice. 'Pain is coming.'

'How v-very comforting...' Athos moaned out, before sinking back to the floor as Aramis took up the second stitch. This time there was pain- it felt as if Aramis had poured fire into his wound. D'Artagnan winced as Athos dug his nails into his knee as he fought to keep his composure; a great moan of pain escaped him as Aramis really got to work.

'Arghh, stop!' He chocked out, eyes squeezing shut. 'For the la-love of god! Please!'

'Told you we should have knocked him out...' Porthos muttered at his side.

'Almost done...it's alright Athos, I'm almost done...' Aramis muttered, before moving away as Athos bucked under him. 'I can't do this if you move!' He warned, the needle in hand, as he waited for Athos to calm down.

'How about we do it the Porthos way?' Porthos asked, coming closer and rolling up his sleeve.

'Punch me and you'll r-regret it!' Athos growled, not entirely joking despite the agonised humour in his eyes.

'Touché,' Porthos quipped back, sitting down again and instead clasping his shoulder. Athos resumed the chokehold he had on d'Artagnan's knee as Aramis began his work again. The screams and groans bounced around the tight tunnels and caves, and they didn't stop until Aramis had applied the last black stitch and bandaged up the wound. After he was finished his sank back onto the tunnel floor, using the back of one hand to wipe his sweaty brow. 'Done.' He stated with a great sigh, before dipping his hands into a large puddle of murky water on the tunnel floor and washing them clean of blood.

'It'll hurt like hell while we get out of here,' he muttered as he wiped them on his coat, before sitting back to the tunnel wall as everyone fell into a silence. Athos groaned as he fought to sit up; in the end he was strangely contorted between leaning against d'Artagnan's shoulder and propping himself up on the tunnel. 'We need to move,' his voice was quiet now, controlled. 'We need to m-make it to outside.'

'Yeah, about that...' Porthos muttered.

'We're lost.' D'Artagnan added, worry in his voice. 'We went round in circles until we found you two.'

'You didn't even make it to the top?' Aramis' voice piqued with panic. 'We've got no more water left,' he looked across to the only light source, currently held tight in Porthos' hand. 'What if the torch goes out?'

'We can't panic,' d'Artagnan muttered, feeling slightly hypocritical as he looked across to Aramis. 'If we panic we never get out.'

'Come...on...' Athos started to move, yet the wound protested and he soon sank back to the tunnel wall, his face ashen. 'We can't stay here...' He growled out, eyes creased in pain.

'Alright, alright...' Aramis breathed in deeply as he stood up. 'Splitting up is obviously out of the question,' he started, listing off scenarios in his head. 'We just take a tunnel and see where it takes us.'

'What if we hit a dead end?' D'Artagnan challenged as he too stood. 'We'd have led Athos along it for nothing.'

'Do you have any better ideas?' Porthos muttered, voice hard-edged. He picked up d'Artagnan's dropped blade and handed it to him. 'And keep that in it's proper place, alright?'

'That's enough,' Athos cut across them, his voice still authoritative despite the pain he was in. 'Lets just start moving.'

Aramis supported him as he teetered towards, before he realised a snag in their plan. 'These tunnels only fit one person going forwards,' he muttered. He looked across to the others. 'Porthos, you go in front,' he muttered, before positioning himself next. 'D'artagnan, you go behind Athos, and that way if he falls either one of us can catch him.' D'Artagnan nodded and took up his place. Athos put his hands on Aramis' shoulders to keep himself upright straight away, which worried the medic a little, but he was grateful that Athos was letting himself get help instead of bottling it up.

'Right...let's start moving.' He muttered to Porthos, tapping him on the shoulder to let him know that everyone else was ready. 'Lets hope the top isn't too far away.' He added, before taking a deep breath as they started walking.

* * *

 **Next chapter up soon!**

 **There's a few more chapters of this left, and I've also just written the first chapter to an all-new fic as well ^^ it's a little different to what I have done, but I hope you'll like it all the same!**

 **Please review!**

 **Xx**


	8. Chapter 8

Aramis didn't know how the tunnels managed to become more dark, more narrow and more suffocating, but they did; he swallowed as he followed Porthos shifting down the corridor, their steps achingly slow due to Athos stumbling into both him and d'Artagnan as he fought to keep his feet. Their leader had finally stopped apologising after nudging them time and again in a deep, sombre tone after Aramis had threatened to beat him with a stick, and was now relatively quiet, save for deep intakes of breath and frequent ill-disguised groans of pain.

D'Artagnan kept a hand at Athos' waist, not touching him but ready to catch him if he were to fall. Guilt wound it's way through his body, seeping into his bloodstream as if his heart was awash with it- he closed his eyes in shame as he thought back to that terrible moment, and shook his head to dispel the ache of it. 'I told you not to blame yourself,' Athos spoke in a gravelly, tired voice in front of him.

'I-I didn't say anything,' d'Artagnan replied in a low whisper, nonplussed.

'You think too loud, lad,' Athos muttered, turning his head and flashing the younger man a pained wink. Seconds later he did what d'Artagnan had been dreading- with a loud moan of pain his knees buckled; his arms reached out and caught Aramis' sleeve. With a yelp of surprise the other man turned and grasped Athos under the arms, lessening his fall as he slid, eyes fluttering open and closed, to the wet tunnel floor. As d'Artagnan fell to his knees beside him, their leader's eyes shut, and did not open again.

'Athos?! Athos look at me!' The medic muttered urgently, getting down onto his haunches with a pained expression of his own on his face. 'Athos you wake up now or so help me...!' He put a hand under Athos' chin, feeling the cold and damp skin for a pulse. 'Come on, come on...' He whispered, a tone of desperation as d'Artagnan shook Athos' shoulder hard, eyes wide. He looked up at Porthos, who was towering above them, torch held aloft so they could see what they were doing.

'Anything?!' The bigger man asked, eyes creased in a frown. Aramis pressed his fingers deeper into Athos' neck, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't be gone, Athos couldn't be gone...not Athos... There! He felt again...slow, weak, but steady. He wasn't gone.

'He's alive.' He sat back with a small, emotion filled sigh, before looking up at his friend with a smile. 'He's alive...' He repeated, wiping a shaky hand down his face, a wet chuckle escaping his lips.

'We need to get him to the top.' D'Artagnan spoke urgently, voice harsh now against Aramis' ears in the silence. 'He'll die if we don't get up there soon.'

'Alright, come on-' he replied, before coming closer to Athos again; he shook his shoulder, worry piquing as his head lolled on his shoulders, but his eyes did not open.

'Come on, Athos, wake up...' D'Artagnan pleaded, fingers curled around his mentor's sleeve.

'He's unconscious...' Porthos muttered, before passing d'Artagnan the torch. 'I'll carry him the rest of the way.'

'No, I was the one that hurt him,' d'Artagnan replied, making to give the torch back. 'I'll carry him up.'

'Now isn't the time to argue!' Aramis muttered, standing up with a small groan of pain. 'D'artagnan, Porthos is larger and stronger, and he'll be able to carry Athos better-'

'The tunnels are too small for him anyway!' D'Artagnan replied, 'we're wasting time...'

'If I can't do it anymore, then you can.' Porthos muttered in a gruff voice. 'I'll take him as far as I can.'

'Alright,' d'Artagnan nodded, standing back as Porthos positioned himself above Athos.

'Come on...'' Porthos muttered, looping an arm around him and shifting him upwards. Already his back was almost touching the top of the tunnel, but Porthos merely bent his legs and hauled him upwards. After a few seconds of positioning, he was ready. They all looked up as Athos groaned out, his eyes fluttering open.

'Wha...?' He began, eyes creased in tired pain.

'Porthos is going to carry you up, Athos.' Aramis said softly, before motioning for d'Artagnan to get up front with the torch.

'Mmmmmnn...can walk...' Athos muttered, before a groan of pain escaped him.

'I don't think you can, my friend.' Aramis replied from his position behind Porthos. He moved Athos' fringe out of the way so he could see his face. 'Thought we'd lost you there..' He muttered.

'You c-can't get rid of me...' Athos moaned out in pain again as Porthos turned a corner and nudged his side. '...that easily...' He added, giving his friend a pain filled smile.

'That's what I like to hear!' Aramis replied, before they descended into silence once more.

* * *

'Damn it!' D'Artagnan's voice burst through into the silence as they walked. Porthos, who had been concentrating on not dropping Athos from off his back, almost walked straight into the younger man as d'Artagnan stopped dead in the tunnel. 'What?' He asked urgently, looking round.

Aramis, who had peered round his friend to see what the hold up was, could see the problem at once. The flame on the torch was nearing the wick- it was sputtering in the darkness, the orange flame licking into blue as it threatened to peter out entirely.

'Quick, anyone got some fuel?' He asked; knowing he didn't he didn't bother checking his pockets. Their own torch had been dropped in the tunnels as they fought Duval. He should have thought to bring it, he cursed himself.

'I didn't think to bring any...' D'Artagnan replied, voice high with concern as he blew onto the torch to try and get some more life into it.

'Its alright, lad- Porthos?' Aramis asked, willing his friend to be resourceful. His heart sank as Porthos turned to him and shook his head.

'Damn,' he whispered, panic threatening to overwhelm him. 'At least it's not gone out entirely.'

Three deep breaths drew in as one as the torch gave it's last sputter and enveloped them in total darkness.

'Famous last words, Mis.' Porthos spoke into the darkness, shifting Athos on his shoulders. He felt him groan in his shoulder, and his fingers scrabbling at his side to get some purchase.

'Damn it!' Aramis yelled, voice reverberating around in the darkness. 'Can't something just go _right_ for us?!' He swallowed down his panic, but he knew it would do no good.

'Aramis, come on, don't panic...' Porthos spoke at his side, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. 'We need to focus on Athos.'

'I know, I know...' Aramis took a deep, steadying breath to calm himself down. He couldn't think about himself, about his panic and fears...he had to make sure his friend got out alive.

'Lets keep going...' He muttered, 'd'artagnan, you have to be our eyes...just make sure we don't hit any walls.'

'How are we going to get back up now?!' D'Artagnan replied as he took some faltering steps forwards.

 _I don't know._ Aramis thought to himself. _Perhaps we'll never get out_. 'We'll do it.' He answered instead, a pitch of hope inserted to make the younger man think he believed in what he was saying. 'We have to.'

They transcended into a silence fraught with unease, worry and panic as each man picked their way slowly along the long corridors. The darkness was total, absolute; Aramis could not even see his own hand if he placed it in front of his face. He kicked a stone and almost tripped forwards, almost falling onto Athos, but managed to stop himself in the nick of time; Athos groaned anyway, his voice strangely disjointed in this vast darkness.

'A...Mis?' He whispered; his voice sounded sluggish.

'Yes?'

'Whys...dark...' It was more of a statement than a question.

'The torch went out. We don't have any more fuel.'

'Oh...' Athos fell into a silence again.

'We'll get you out, Athos.' Aramis groped out gingerly in the darkness, fingers looking for an arm or shoulder to squeeze; they caught Athos' wrist. His shaky fingers squeezed, but for Athos' comfort or his own, he didn't know.

'Never doubted you...for a moment...' Athos breathed as Aramis let go and they resumed their slow walking.

* * *

'We must be nearly there now!' D'Artagnan muttered under his breath. His fingers were bruised and sore from bumping into course rocks as he fumbled round to ensure he didn't lead the others into a dead end; he ached to them into his pockets, or just to rub the pain away, but he didn't dare. The others depended on him, and he wasn't going to get one of them hurt by is actions again.

'We'll get there, lad,' Porthos replied, voice close to him. He put a hand out onto the younger man's shoulder and squeezed lightly. 'You're doing a grand job so far.' He added, meaning every word.

'Thanks..' D'Artagnan replied, chancing a wipe of his sweaty face before resuming his stance at the front.

The darkness was enveloping his entire being; his eyes widened as he tried to compensate for the lack of light, but it was as if all the light in the world had been snuffed out along with the torch. He felt his skin start crawling again and he had to swallow down his panic as the tunnels seemed to press in even as he couldn't see them.

He suddenly stopped as a sound met his ears. He put out a hand behind him to stop Porthos, who walked into said hand and let out an _oof_ before standing still. 'What now?' He whispered, but d'Artagnan shushed him quickly.

'What's the matter?' Aramis whispered, before grunting as Porthos made to gently bat him into silence, but instead hit him hard in the chest. 'Sorry,' he retorted, rubbing his chest and getting closer. Athos groaned lightly to his side, but he could sense even in the darkness that Porthos had tensed up. 'Shh...' He whispered, putting a hand gently over Athos' mouth as he groaned out again.

D'Artagnan backed himself into a wall, eyes wide as he desperately searched for the source of the noise. There it was again- a scrabbling sound. Dull thumps. Footfalls in the darkness.

'You are sure you killed Duval?' Porthos whispered, turning his head back to Aramis.

'Athos said he did, but I didn't check...' He admitted, feeling fear erupt in his chest. They were in no fit state to fight now. They had to get Athos back to the top.

'He's coming round that tunnel... ' d'Artagnan breathed, feeling his voice waver despite himself.

This time he didn't raise his weapon. He couldn't risk hurting Porthos, or Armais, or god forbid hurt Athos more than he had already. He tensed himself, knowing that as Porthos had his arms full he was now the only one standing in the way of Duval and Athos.

The footsteps got closer, and d'Artagnan could now hear that there was more than one set- _how had he got back up top before them? Had he rallied friends to finish them off, to finish the whole business?_

Aramis felt for a way around Porthos and Athos, to join the lad, to protect him from what was coming- with a whispered curse he realised he could not get past them. Unsheathing his dagger, he got himself ready, adrenaline now pumping through his veins, pushing out the fear and panic.

D'Artagnan put out his hands behind him, pushing Porthos gently further behind him- this was it now. It was kill or be killed- he wouldn't let anyone hurt his friends.

Suddenly a flare of orange erupted in their eyes- they each put a hand out to shield their ears from the painful glare. Aramis was the first to recover- he opened his eyes to see two large shadows standing in front of d'Artagnan; he didn't recognise one, a stooped old man, but he sure recognised the other.

With a shaky chuckle he put a hand on Athos' shoulder as Captain Treville surveyed the, concern in his eyes as he looked upon his Musketeers like a worried father. 'Next time tell someone where you're going, alright?' He muttered, voice echoing across the tunnels, now flickering in orange light.

* * *

 **Treville to the rescue! Last chapter up soon!**

 **Hope you enjoyed this!**

 **Please review!**

 **X**


	9. Chapter 9

Two days later...

The morning light weakly filtered through the thin curtains, a yellow beam staining the world in it's reach. Upon the bed d'Artagnan lay, his sheets crumpled and forgotten in a haphazard pile in a corner of the bed. Another restless night had plagued him, and he was now past the exhausted stage and had delved into the mere _existing_ stage; he has been bereft of sleep now for many hours, as every time he closed his eyes he saw darkness and heard the yelp of Athos as he had plunged his blade into him.

He had taken to reading by candlelight to pass the time, even accepting a large tome on the history of fabrics that Constance had left in his rooms. She had been kind at first, but now d'Artagnan thought he was rather wearing her patience, which made him feel worse.

'Knock knock,' the voice was low, patient. The younger man sat up straighter and wiped a hand down his face as he turned to the door. Aramis gave him a smile as he walked in.

'We missed you at training,' he observed, looking about the place.

D'Artagnan nodded, before standing up and stretching. Treville had given them all a day off from duties to recuperate, and had expected them back this morning to start training. 'I..I haven't been sleeping very well,' he admitted in a small voice. He turned to Aramis, his eyes wide as he let out a sigh. 'I'm finding it hard to...deal with things.' He hadn't been this honest, even to Constance.

Aramis gave him a solemn nod, before taking a wooden chair that was near the window and turning it backwards before sitting on it, so his chest was pressing on the back of it.

'Constance tells me you aren't sleeping,' he muttered, rolling his shoulder to get rid of the ache.

'No...' D'Artagnan sat heavily down on his bed again, before figuring it would be a good idea to put his boots on. At least make an effort to do something.

'She also tells me you've been refusing food.' The musketeer sounded a little more authoritative with his tone at this, so much so that d'Artagnan felt his eyes drop to avoid looking at him.

Aramis sighed a little at this. 'You need to eat, d'Artagnan,' he said, trying not to sound too much like his mother. He snorted as the younger man gave him a look that plainly said _go away_ , yet he didn't falter. 'Come on, what do you reckon Athos would think if he knew we weren't looking out for you.' He said, standing up and coming to stop next to the Gascon. 'He'd have our guts, that's what he'd do.' He looked down at him, studying his young friend, at the grey circles under his eyes, his unkempt and messy hair, his pallid skin.

'Sword?' He asked, if only to fill the silence.

'Over by the window.'

'Over by the-' Aramis turned and saw that, true enough, the blade was still by the window, exactly where he himself had placed it the day they got back to the surface. 'You haven't moved it since we came back?'

'Haven't needed to,' d'Artagnan shrugged. He shifted uncomfortably on his thin mattress as Aramis went to pick it up. 'I cleaned it up first.' He added as the other man unsheathed it and examined the steel. 'It still had his blood on it..' He added some heat redundantly, voice trailing off.

'He wouldn't want you to blame yourself,' Aramis muttered, voice sombre. 'You know he wouldn't.'

'It doesn't matter,' d'Artagnan's voice was sharper than he intended. 'I still do.'

'Come out with me,' Aramis implored, striding back across to the younger man. 'For a walk, for some food, anything.' He withheld a sigh as d'Artagnan merely shrugged. 'We're all worried about you.'

'I keep getting nightmares.' The words were spoken as a statement, yet d'Artagnan had managed to hitch the end with his voice to make it seem like a question. He looked up the Aramis with wide eyes again. 'I can't stop seeing it...over and over...'

Aramis nodded slowly. He sank back down into the wooden chair, now resting his arms on the back of it. 'All the time?'

'Whenever I close my eyes.'

'Oh, d'Artagnan...' Aramis breathed, understanding dawning. He had been- still was- in the same situation as the man in front of him. 'Why haven't you told anyone? I could have helped sooner.'

'Didn't want to seem weak,' d'Artagnan shrugged, even though he knew of Aramis' plight with what had happened at Savoy, and how it had affected him- he never thought of Aramis as weak, or less of a musketeer, yet that was all that consumed him when he awoke clutching at his sheets and wiping his sweaty face.

'Weak?' Aramis shook his head. 'You have suffered greatly for something that you shouldn't blame yourself for.' He came to sit next to d'Artagnan as the younger man snorted under his breath and looked away once more. 'What happened to Athos was an accident, d'Artagnan, an accident!' He nudged him to get his attention. 'You didn't mean to do it! I know it, Porthos knows it, and I know you also know!' He stood up, putting a hand out. 'Been to see him yet?' He asked lightly, knowing that answer already.

D'Artagnan shook his head, brow creasing. 'I figured he wouldn't want to see me,' he started, shrugging. 'I wouldn't want to see me.'

'He's been asking after you.'

'Really?'

'Yes, ever since he woke up.' Aramis smiled as d'Artagnan got up. 'I wanted to visit before to ask you, but Constance told me to leave you be for a while.' He added. 'She's worried about you.'

'I know...' D'Artagnan muttered as he went to change into a fresh shirt. 'I've been pushing her away.'

'She told me,' Aramis spoke from the doorway, nodding his agreement. He didn't tell him that Constance had been going up to his bedroom during the night to watch him, just to make sure he was alright. He also didn't tell him how she had been caught by her husband on numerous occasions, but still did it nonetheless. 'You need to get out of this place.'

'I know,' d'Artagnan sighed, feeling foolish and then cursing himself for it. 'I'm sorry.'

'You've got nothing to be sorry for!' Aramis chuckled, putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder and squeezing as they stepped out of the door. 'Come on, let's go and see Athos, he'll probably be wondering where we've got to.' He added, leading them to the door.

He spied Constance standing anxiously in the Kitchen area, scrubbing the wooden table; he gave her a reassuring smile and her face immediately relaxed, breaking into a smile for the first time since Aramis had stepped into the house. She breathed a sigh of relief as the door shut behind the two men, happy d'Artagnan had managed to be coaxed out.

* * *

'Can I go home yet?' Athos asked for the tenth time, hands itching for his sword, legs restless for action.

'Once the nurses have checked the bandages, yes.' Porthos answered for the tenth time, holding in a smile. He knew Athos hated being cooped up inside, and in a hospital of all places, but once they had come back up Aramis noted the wound had started to fester. Athos had been running a fever as they raced up to the hospital. But now, under the care of the kind nurses, their leader was recuperating, save for his annoyance at compulsory bed rest in the hospital.

Athos growled in displeasure, flexing his legs under his blanket. 'When's Aramis coming back?' He asked, feeling hungry- the hospital did not provide more than the basic of rations, so he always looked forward to Aramis' daily visitations; his friend was always laden with cakes and wine, smuggled under his cloak.

'He's gone to get some more important supplies.' Porthos muttered, popping a grape into his mouth from the big bunch on the bedside table; a gift from the palace upon hearing of Athos' injury.

'Oh?' Athos asked, sitting up a little straighter and wincing. 'What?'

'Wait and see.'

No sooner had Porthos spoken, two figures appeared in the doorway- Armais rapped on the wooden door with his knuckles before striding in, producing a basket of bread and iced buns and placing it on the beside table. 'Voila!' He grinned with relish, before sitting down and looking to the door, where d'Artagnan was dithering. 'Brought some more company, Athos.' He smiled, sitting back.

'Well, this is a surprise,' Athos muttered, quirking an eyebrow as he sat up, wincing. 'Thought you'd disappeared off the face of the earth.' D'Artagnan shrugged a little, and Aramis could see a trickle of guilt in his face.

'Be nice, Athos.' He muttered quietly. 'The lad's been suffering since we came back.'

Athos nodded a little, a smile now tugging at his lips. He knew that the Gascon had been suffering, had been since they were down in the catacombs. He didn't blame him for any of what had happened, but knew the lad blamed himself. He would have blamed himself, had it been the other way around.

'Its good to see you.' He said, before gingerly hoisting himself up on his forearms to sit up straighter on the bed; Porthos, now in tune with the finer nuances of Athos being in pain, took this as a cue to put a hand on his shoulder and one gingerly at his side, and hoist him a little upwards. 'Thank you,' Athos groaned a little, now consciously trying to withhold some of his pain; he spied d'Artagnan's face as he had floundered in his bed. 'Its healing,' he said, before motioning for the lad to sit down. 'The rooms have only two chairs for visitors, but you can sit on the bed.' He added, moving his legs across as the Gascon sat down slowly. 'I don't bite.'

D'Artagnan smiled at that, before clearing his throat as he realised three pairs of eyes had trained themselves on him. 'How are you?'

'Better,' Athos smiled with a shrug. 'Hopefully they'll let me out soon, or I might yet go mad...' He added, chuckling as Aramis snorted.

'He's been nothing but argumentative since he woke up!' He grinned, looking across to d'Artagnan. 'We almost had to tie him to his bedstead in order to keep him here!'

D'Artagnan smiled, a real, true smile on his lips. He could breathe easier, knowing Athos was alright; seeing him laughing and joking made him feel a little better. The fog that had enveloped him was beginning to dissipate.

'You're thinking too loud again.' Athos muttered, eyebrows raised. 'Lets get this over with-' he cleared his throat as Aramis and Porthos sat back and began arguing under their breaths over who would get the biggest iced bun. '-I do not lay any blame on you. You were doing your duty to protect both yourself and Porthos.' He stopped, before lying back on his pillows with a pained expression on his face. 'You can stop blaming yourself; I would have done the same thing.'

'But you didn't stab a friend!'

'No, but you didn't know it was me.' Athos countered. 'You had no way of knowing it was me- you did your job. Nothing more.'

There was a few seconds of pregnant silence, permeated by Porthos and Aramis chewing on some crusty bread, torn off from the loaf. 'You know,' Porthos muttered, nudging d'Artagnan and wiping crumbs from his shirt. 'You can start smiling again now.'

'We've rather missed our happy little puppy bouncing round...' Armais added, wolfish grin on his face.

'Our little ray of sunshine!' Porthos winked with a chuckle.

'Shut up!' D'Artagnan grinned, feeling his cheeks going pink.

'Oh look, you've embarrassed him now!' Athos muttered, smiling as he watched his dear friends joke around.

'Aww, look at him!' Aramis chuckled, putting an arm around the Gascon and pulling him close, laughing as he hugged him tight, before laughing harder as d'Artagnan struggled to get out from under his arm.

'Here, have a grape-' Porthos grinned as soon as he had freed himself. He shoved it right into d'Artagnan's mouth while Aramis roared with laughter. 'Now stop taking things so seriously!'

Athos chuckled as he watched d'Artagnan chew on the grape while laughing. He was glad the younger member of their group seemed to be alright now; he knew it may yet take some more strong words and reassuring conversation, but for now he seemed content. He sat back, resting tired muscles and his friends laughed around him. He knew that they all had each other's backs, through thick and thin, all while laughing and joking...he wouldn't have it any other way.

 **The End.**

* * *

 **Well, I hope you enjoyed this little adventure! My writer's block is now over, so expect more ^^**

 **I have a couple of chapters of another fic already written, but will probably wait a while before posting again, but I will be back!**

 **Please review, I would love to know what you think! Hopefully the review issue will be over soon, but I still see them, and will reply when I am able!**

 **Until next time...**

 **X**


End file.
